Information
Leonhardt
Legacy Name: Leonhardt
The
Hydrus LainOwner:
zavsAge: 9 years, 1 month, 3 weeks
Born: March 7th, 2015
Adopted: 9 years, 1 month, 3 weeks ago
Adopted: March 7th, 2015
Statistics
- Level: 1
- Strength: 10
- Defense: 10
- Speed: 10
- Health: 10
- HP: 10/10
- Intelligence: 0
- Books Read: 0
- Food Eaten: 0
- Job: Unemployed
A little bird picks her way through the gardens. They call this place the center of Eden, the story of the universe, and upholding the fragile balance between air and vacuum is a turquoise bird, a creature once odd, but has lived and breathed the flowers and mildew for centuries sufficient that she is no longer odd, just old, old and weary.
They sing her name on the streets, paraded under fitful glowers of a hundred streetlights.
Leon?
Come over. The turquoise bird listens to all, prayers and songs floating around her in little domes, wispy jellyfish. Today is another day of work, as are all other days, the slivers of white and silver pouring out under the bird. When she unfurls her wings the sky cries and rain pelts the ground, and the mist arises. It sounds of grotesque mourning, pity and pain and that ill bit of pleasure, the concoction to squander lives. Leonhardt pushes through the storm and the roiling thunder, her eyes locked on the silver thread that runs across the sky, right above the apex of Eden's Tower.She's never gotten that far before. The centuries have eaten away at her and she lives on the verge of life and death, a state of constant comatose. The zenith is where she had fallen through and spun for days and days, a tiny electron whirling down the rabbit hole. The land loves to remind her of the dead mealworms she'd regurgitated during the fall for that is all she smells now, that is all Eden smells of.Leon, I'm sorry. P l e a s e, forgive me.
When she lands on a branch of the tower, the rain stops. In the blink of an eye the mist seeps into the silver lining and the weather is clear, almost content. Leonhardt shakes the water off and preens her feathers, but her neck cracks and her muscles groan, so she stops. Eden is cold and it has encapsulated her heart in ice. This is evident when she sees the images of poverty and desolation in the mirrors that surround her. Killing gets easier the second time. Being the oracle is no different.